The Death of Love
by InsanityRunsInMyBlood
Summary: I know gods don't die, but for the sake of this story, pretend they can...Rated T for dying and a few little hints...Feedback always appreciated.


Kneeling, Poseidon gave a keening wail. He held his sister's body. She looked perfect in death, except for the four ugly scratch marks, glowing sickly green even after her passing. Chaos only knows where her soul went.

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO HER, ZEUS!" He screamed. Hades staggered over, eyes wide.

"No. No. No." He repeated this mantra. Demeter was screaming bloody murder and agony, her hand on Hera's pale, cold face. Hestia was shivering, her eyes dark and emotionless, tears running in fresh lines down her face.

Zeus stood, still as a statue, his sky blue eyes unseeing, blank, without a spark. His hair blew in the salty sea wind. It was the only movement seen on him.

"Hera…my sweet sister…" Poseidon said brokenly, cradling Hera, rocking back and forth. "Please, don't do this to us." He whispered.

"Say something, Hera. Say something, sister…" Demeter sobbed, stroking her hands through Hera's soft brown hair. "Please…say something. Anything, Hera, anything!" She said in anguish. Hestia flashed away, and in her stead, she left a warm flame kindling right there on the beach. As the seconds passed, the flame grew brighter and warmer, offering warmth and comfort to those who need it, but do not feel it at the moment. Hades was still muttering in disbelief, hands shaking as he, trembling, put a hand to Hera's nose.

No breath.

Even though they all knew she was gone forever, they could not, _would_ not, believe it.

All the while, Zeus stood stoically. His eyes were settled on Hera. They looked blank, yes, but they drank in every detail of his wife hungrily.

It felt as if eons passed, as Poseidon lay her in the sand gently. Hera's soft hair billowed around her head, giving her an angelic look. Her glowing face suggested she was merely asleep, and not _dead_. Her soft lashes looked like she could wake any moment, fluttering softly as the wind picked up, as caused by Poseidon's immense grief. Her plump red lips were slightly parted, and Zeus could almost imagine the breaths she was taking.

Except for there was no movement at all. She was still. The two of them could make a pair of statues.

His eyes trailed down to her light green tunic, tightened at the waist with a small red belt, wrinkles looking crisp. Her smooth, pale limbs rested lightly on the sand, which was a shade darker than her porcelain skin. His eyes once again rested on her eyes, staring intently, as if hoping that she would open them, giving him a view of those beautiful, sparkling emerald green orbs again.

He waited patiently.

He waited eagerly.

But he waited in vain.

The realisation came very late, although the latent speed at which it hit him was like that of a bullet train under a tight schedule.

He faltered, and sank to his knees.

Abandoning his dignity, he got on all fours and crawled over to Hera. The shock was still there, but it was slowly wearing off. Black tinted his vision. His hand came into contact with her now freezing cheek.

"No." He whispered, jolted out of his trance by the coldness of her skin. His siblings retreated, giving him some space. "Nononono…nononononononono! NO! NO! NOOOOOO! NOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOO! Hera! HERA!? HERAAAAAA! HERAAAAAAAAAAA! Darling, wake up! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! Come on love! WAKE UP! PLEASE! PLEEEEAAAASE!" He screamed, practically in hysterics, the tears falling in torrents, blurring his vision, but he wiped them away furiously, looking at the elegant and gorgeous features of his wife. "Hera, my love…please…wake up…give…give me…just…open your eyes…" He cried in shattered sentences. His other siblings retreated to give him some personal space.

Vaguely, he could hear someone talking. A man's voice.

"Come back to Olympus as soon as you're done, Zeus. We have much to discuss." It was a detatched, cold voice. Somewhere in his mind, Zeus registered that it was Poseidon, and it scared him to hear his normally cheerful brother using such a harsh, icy, and emotionless tone. However, right now his brain wasn't able to process anything other than the fact that his wife was dead.

Hera was dead.

His precious wife…dead.

The love of his immortal life (even though he might not have shown it)…dead.

Gone.

Gone forever.

And it's not like he could visit her in Elysium or something. Immortal souls just…vanish. Nobody knows where they go.

His fault. His fault he was with a mortal mistress, again. His fault Hera ran away. His fault a monster overcame his wife in her emotionally distressed state. His fault that she ended up dying. It seemed preposterous, a goddess dying, but just like fading, immortals' existences can end, too.

For the first time in his life, Zeus felt scared. What was he without Hera? What was a King without his Queen at his side? He felt empty, hollow. His hand came into contact with something cold. Looking carefully, he saw his wedding ring.

The golden band inlaid with emerald, sapphires, topazes, and all kinds of precious jewels glinted, as if mocking him. He looked down to his own hand, where a similar ring sparkled in unison with its mate, silently taunting him, sitting on warm flesh, while the other was bound to a cold, unmoving hand.

He could still remember their wedding day.

_Zeus smiled confidently, standing at the white marble altar, looking down at all the guests. Poseidon and Hades stood by his side, dressed smartly, and also smiling widely. Zeus' gut twisted with anticipation. He couldn't wait to see what his bride would look like._

_The moment she entered, about to walk down the aisle, he fought to keep his jaw closed. She certainly lived up to his expectations. Actually, she looked even more beautiful. Ravishing. Stunning. Entrancing. Enticing. Mesmerizing. Exquisite. Delicate._

_Sexy._

_She was clad in a green dress. White flowers adorned the single strap on her shoulder, and the silky material clung to her upper body, showing off her amazing curves. A bunch of white flowers were bunched at a side of her waist, twisting her dress, which puffed out. Transparent light green veils covered the lower part of the dress. Little white orbs dotted their ways down the garment. Her green veil trailed behind her, and Zeus could see his other two beautiful sisters as well, but their radiance was overshadowed by his soon-to-be wife. _

_She just looked so amazing. Her emerald eyes were sparkling, shining a thousand different greens, their hues blending yet separate. She peeked out from underneath her long, smoky lashes. He could get lost in those eyes—stare into them for eternity. Her red lips were pulled up in a reserved yet ecstatic smile. She was blushing lightly, and Zeus found that extremely cute and endearing. Her hair was like a chocolate waterfall behind her. Braids were done from the front to the back, where Zeus guessed they were then joined together in an intricate bun. Some curled strands bounced in front of her face, making his hands itching to pull on them teasingly. She came closer…closer…closer…_

_He could almost smell her now. Her light, sweet, scented, intoxicating perfume. He wanted her so badly. He folded his hands at the back, afraid he will just lose control. She walked up the final steps to stand at the altar with him._

_It was a blur to him until he heard the priest (a minor godling), say._

"_Do you, Zeus, take Hera as your wife for all of eternity, in sickness and health, for better or worse, and cherish her as long as you live?"_

"_I do." It was all Zeus could do not to pounce on Hera. She gave him a soft smile that turned his insides mushy, although he would never admit that out loud._

_The priest repeated the vows for Hera._

"_I do." She whispered._

"_You may now kiss…" The priest's voice was drowned out by the elation roaring in Zeus' ears. Heart thumping furiously, he leaned down as she tilted her head up, and captured her lips in a breathtaking, passionate, hot, wanton kiss._

_He couldn't wait until nightfall._

"Dead." He spoke dully. "Because of…me…"

The guilt was overbearing. It weighed him down. It crushed him. It flooded his entire being like a tsunami Poseidon would conjure in his fury, and he crumpled to the ground and curled into a ball, shaking with self-disgust, sorrow, and anger. To think, he would live with the guilt for the rest of his existence.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, just drowning in a torrent of emotions and memories.

By the time he came to his senses, it was already dusk. The skies were slightly overcast, and the seas restless. A strong wind blew in from the open ocean, and Zeus knew it was his brother urging him to return to his home on Olympus. Looking down at Hera, he shed a few more tears—golden tears. They dripped onto her skin, and they were somehow absorbed. Hera's body glowed a beautiful, soft shade of gold. The colour returned to her skin, but she was no more alive than she had been a few hours back, when they had found her here, without life. Giving a scream of despair, he stood up with a wild look in his eyes. He screamed and roared, bellowed and shouted, teartracks kept fresh, hair a mess, and hands clenched into fists, his tendons and bones standing out. He was so sure the whole world could hear him—hear his anguished, despaired howls of agony. Finally, he calmed down, but all that was left was a shell of his former self. With hollow eyes, he picked Hera up gently, carrying her in a bridal style, her head resting against his strong chest, which was heaving with deep breaths. His large and calloused hands were in contact with her skin, and Zeus realised, again, that he wouldn't ever be able to feel her reciprocate his touch again. Closing his eyes, he let the final tears fall, before he flashed to Olympus.

Standing at the grand doors, the entrace to the throne room, he opened it with a gust of sharp wind. They swung open like a well-oiled machine to reveal all of the Olympian council, Hestia, Hades, Persephone, the minor gods, and the nymphs that lived on mount Olympus staring at him, standing up immediately. Hephaestus was speechless. He hated his mother—yes—but that didn't mean he wanted her dead. Seeing her in Zeus' arms…he slumped back down into his throne, shocked beyond belief. Zeus' children with other women stared at their stepmother. Hera had always been quite mean to them, but now that she'd dead, they pitied their father and felt sad and ashamed for all of those times they disobeyed Hera and angered her. Athena looked down. Apollo grasped Artemis' hand. Dionysus looked away. Ares stared. He may not have agreed with his mother, but she was still his mother.

"We need a shroud." He said in a quiet voice, yet it reverberated across the huge chamber. "A shroud for a daughter of Kronos and Rhea." His voice quivered. "A shroud for my wife, the only woman I've ever truly loved." His voice cracked.

"A shroud for Hera, Queen of Olympus."


End file.
